Stepping on Legos
by LoyaltyFalters
Summary: When you step on a lego it's unexpected and painful as hell. No denying. Finding out you have a kid from your long dead ex is much the same... Especially when said kid doesn't even know. Human!AU
1. Chapter 1

_**Rated:** T, for pretty obvious reasons._

_**Trigger Warnings (TW):** Mentions of medication, disturbing thoughts, Percy being just too adorable for words, blood (but not necessarily gore), panic attacks, and the usual innuendos that come with Poseidon being a total asshat with a thing for vagina._

_**Pairings:** __Canon Olympian pairings, ones that go along with the original mythology—such as Hera/Zeus. There'll be some implied stuff, of course, like past Poseidon/Sally, past Athena/Poseidon, but it's mainly focused on Poseidon and Percy's father-son relationship. We'll see where it goes from there._

_**Spoilers:** None, as far as I know._

_**Disclaimer:** Don't own jack, man. But Riordan definitely owns my soul._

* * *

Chapter 1

He'd found her at the bottom of the stairs, silent and sad. His wide eyes didn't recognize such stillness. The wooden steps weren't slippery, not at all wet from soaked boots or a dripping coat. In truth, it hadn't even rained. Her shoes were plain sneakers—comfortable and predictable. Like they'd mapped out the red oak wood a thousand times before. They could probably recognize every flaw, scratches and chips transforming into delicate patterns. The woman couldn't have tripped. It was unlikely, considering how careful she always was.

He did not understand.

The little boy just wanted his Mommy. Was that so bad? It must have been, because she wouldn't even speak to him. She just laid there, staring blankly at the cracks in the left wall with her sweet blue-grey eyes glazed over and pretty pink lips parted into a small, horrified "o". Her neck's at a weird angle, too, and he wasn't sure if that was natural or not. Percy cocked his head before kneeling down next to her with a soft, confused whine. He didn't dare go louder.

His mommy didn't like loud noises, they made her head hurt. When it got really bad, she'd grip at her hair and swallow some small red things that looked like tictacs. Though they didn't taste good like tictacs did, Percy knew. Mommy didn't like them at all; Percy could tell.

So Percy choose not to talk, as he often did. He just whined again, cuddling into her cold, unmoving chest and kicking his tiny legs in wounded frustration. Strangely, she didn't even flinch. Her strong, passionate heart did not beat. _Was it saving up on energy? Was it taking a break?_ Percy didn't think it was normal for a heart to take a break. Did hearts even need breaks? That sounded unhealthy.

The child frowned, the baby blue blanket around his fragile shoulders rustling with every concerned squirm his petite body made.

"Mommy?" he questioned, unable to stop himself. "Mommy, what's wrong?" He nuzzled her chin with his button nose. His mommy liked to bop it when he did something wrong. Percy always pretended it hurt, so he wouldn't hurt her feelings. "Mommy?"

Something was wrong. Something was very, _very_ wrong. Mommy never ignored Percy! Mommy loved Percy, just like Percy loved Mommy!

Little Percy Jackson buried his face into his mother's long brown hair, ignoring its sticky texture and metallic smell. Did she get juice in her hair? Percy wrinkled his nose when some of his Mommy's hair got in his mouth. It tasted icky! He made no attempt to lick the substance off his lips—it must be juice (possibly the icky Kool-Aid kind that wasn't actually Kool-Aid). He wiped it off with his sleeve. That's what it looked like, so it had to be that!

It must have gone bad or something. "Glkk!"

Part of the child wondered how his Mommy had got down here at the bottom of the rickety old staircase, crimson juice pooling under her head and soaking up into the edge of the ugly, pus-colored carpet a few inches away. She looked scared, he thought, cautiously dipping his fingers into the tacky liquid and sticking them into his mouth with a questioning (and disgusted) grunt.

He didn't taste it again—it made him feel sick. It was too salty, and his burning curiosity was finally sated.

His eyes never left her after that, as there was now nothing to grab his attention. Interestingly, a small part of her head looked a bit squashed, like slightly rotten fruit resting against concrete. Thank goodness it wasn't too bad. Though it _was_ scary.

Percy pondered why it was the way it was, but not nearly as much as he had with how long she had been down here. She must be cold! Whipping his precious blankie from off his shoulders, he laid it over top of her, tucking it in before patting her on the cheek affectionately. Much better, he wouldn't want her to freeze.

"Why you out here?" No answer. How strange. Mommy always answered.

Had the smelly man locked her out again? Sometimes he forgot to unlock the door or didn't leave the key under the mat. Percy's brow puckered, innocent green eyes narrowing in thought. No, that couldn't be right! Percy had crawled right through the doggy door, so Mommy obviously could have done the same! She was smart like that, and certainly wouldn't be stumped by such a silly bump in the road. His mommy was even smarter than his pre-K teacher! (And she was pretty smart.)

But Percy guessed it didn't matter; he was so glad she was home! He had missed her _real_ bad.

He laid with her 'til morning until finally a horrified neighbor called nine-one-one. What a silly lady!

Mommy was _fine_.

**_-P-J-O-_**

_(Four years later.)_

Poseidon Olympia hated these kind of events. Really, there wasn't much of a point going to one, other than good press and overly sensitive women who had a thing for overly sensitive men. But being rich had its responsibilities, and putting on a sweet face and batting your eyelashes at ungrateful brats was one of them.

Glaring, his eyes swiped over the run-down building in front of him. It was small, almost smaller than the first floor of his home, with ratty puce curtains and what looked like a leaky roof. His eyes rolled skyward. Wonderful, truly wonderful. The canary yellow steps that led up to the puke green door_ totally_ made the place _pop_. His breath curled and dissipated in the freezing December air.

He couldn't complain, it's not like the twenty-four year-old had much say in the matter. Surely his father would take away his credit card if he didn't behave. Running his hand through his wild black hair, Poseidon forced himself to square his shoulders. _Be good, get more money. More money means more expensive hotel rooms, more food, more gifts that would result in more women..._

More women.

He breathed in, then out. This was just a visit to a children's care home. His father had told him there was nothing to worry about. Everything would be fine; there wouldn't be any trouble. Just whiny kids and maybe the monstrosity of stepping on a stray lego block.

His hand closed around the knob, and with a great sigh, he opened the door...

And was instantly greeted with a boy ramming straight into him. Everything went quiet, but there hadn't been much noise in the first place. Poseidon wondered if his eyes were glowing red, or if the burning sensation he was feeling was just the angry flush that had taken over his cheeks. His glanced down at the boy's terrified face.

He was nondescript and chubby, with floppy brown hair covering one of his equally brown eyes. Thing couldn't be older than sixteen, despite what his large stature implied. His lips were quivering beneath a slightly crooked nose. Poseidon bit back a snarl and forced his face instead into a pleasant smile. Hopefully no one would notice the rapid twitching of his eye. "Off in a hurry?" A chuckle - - or what was supposed to correctly resemble a chuckle - - passed his lips. The kid turned red in the face, stuttering out an apology. A young caretaker followed in close behind.

She was quite lovely, he couldn't help but notice. Very pretty—delicate features and graceful fingers. Her hair was a very healthy mocha, and so curly that the individual locks reminded him of coiled up snakes waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Added with a teasing simper and dancing cat eyes, Poseidon thought that today might not be so bad with her around to keep him company. "I apologize," she said. "Tyson can be reckless at times." Her inviting lips curved down into a lopsided scowl _(she was still attractive, even when frowning)_ as she looked at the teenager. Tyson scampered away like a frightened toddler.

"It's fine." He smiled, "No harm done." Poseidon didn't bother to introduce himself. She already knew his name, he was very aware, possibly by heart. One good thing about any type of event involving a care-home was that you were always treated like royalty.

And wasn't he, of a sort?

"Still, what an awful way to start the day, Mr. Olympia." She shook her head, seemingly disgusted, but he caught the grin curling at her _very red_ mouth. "I'm Medusa Adalin. I'm so happy you joined us today; I can't thank you enough."

"Just glad that you invited me, Ms. Medusa." Now he was, at least. Before? Not so much.

"Well, the pleasure is ours. Mr. D should be coming soon, I'm sure he'd love to talk to you." Poseidon knew who _that_ was. Dionysus was one of his older brother's "acquaintances", meaning Zeus paid the man to give him good publicity. Thousands of dollars for a few words on how he saved puppies and babies alike from burning buildings, of how he gave a big percentage of his cash to the poor and the needy.

That's why Poseidon was here in the first place. For years, his father and his older brother had fought head-to-head against each other, Zeus winning by exactly one point for over a year now. This was Kronos' chance to get him back. **(1) **

Of course, Poseidon just had to get dragged into the middle of their little tiff. Not that he really minded.

More money and sex for him.

Someone cleared their throat behind him, and he jumped, spinning around to face the voice with a no-doubt startled expression. A scrawny boy was attempting to give him the evil eye with his chin held a fraction higher than Poseidon expected from such a small kid. He looked like he was prepared to face down a dragon.

Poseidon wondered how long he had stood there, his dark bangs mostly covering the peeved look in his familiar green eyes rimmed with dark bags.

He supposed it didn't matter, but the brat had to be pretty light on is feet to slip past his radar so easily. But then again, a gentle gust of air looked like it could knock the poor thing clean over. Or maybe he was losing his touch?

Poseidon hid a snort. _Of course not!_

The boy's lips twitched up into a forced smile. It looked more like a grimace. "You're Mr. Olympia, sir?" He spoke very quietly, each letter sounding like it was about it wither away. His politeness was just as fake as the mockery of a smile that had been on his face earlier, Poseidon noted.

"Yeah, kid, that's me."

The young kid's lips trembled like they were trying to bite back something nasty—maybe even a few well-placed curse words. "Mr. D is just upstairs. I'll show you the way, mister." Amused, Poseidon arched an eyebrow at him. He decided to ignore the way those small fists clenched.

"Oh?" he hummed.

"Yep."

The boy from earlier, Tyson, padded up to the far more mature child, tugging on his hair with one hand lightly and reaching out with the other. Poseidon stared when the green-eyed kid took the offered, large hand in his, almost as if Tyson were a child instead of someone twice his size and around eight years his senior - - or so he guessed. "Percy," Tyson giggled. _Percy_ pursed his lips before flashing the other a brief—and in his important opinion, weak—smile.

"Come on, buddy," he spoke to the older boy softly, motioning Poseidon to follow them.

And blinking slightly at the obvious authority in the brat's green gaze, Poseidon _did_ follow.

**_-P-J-O-_**

Part of Percy wondered, forever off-task, if all of Poseidon Olympia's clothes were so expensive. His shirt seemed to cost a good fifty dollars, and that amount of dough could easily buy Percy a new pair of Nike's. And jeez, did he need some new shoes! Percy looked down at his red trainers, wiggling a single, blue-clad pinky toe that had managed to wear a hole through the (nearly) ancient fabric. They were so tight his heels felt like they had been stripped of a good four layers of skin. He wasn't sure there was any left!

His nose wrinkled. _This_ was the reason he hated rich people. Obviously they didn't know the greatest rule of all. _Sharing is caring!_ Well, _that_, and the five second rule.

The toxic fumes coming from their own stupidity had left them with some major memory loss, because he remembered learning both of those rules in second grade.

"So, what's this place like?" Percy stared at the older dude.

"There are a lot of kids," he began, "and not enough deodorant." Olympia snickered a little, the corners of his eyes crinkling up into a smile. Percy tried to smile back. It was hard though; he'd never been able to fake a sincere look. The old man _actually_ thought he was joking, but he hadn't smelled some of the other kid's here yet. They were rank.

"What about that Medusa gal?" Olympia asked eagerly as they turned up the corner to the swirling staircase.

Oh, _heck_ no. This guy was crazy. "I wouldn't touch her with a thirty-nine and a half-foot pole."

The man grimaced. "That bad?"

"I'm pretty sure she eats children."

"And turns them into stone with a glance?" Olympia joked.

"That too." Olympia didn't think Percy was serious, but that woman could make a grown man cry for sure. Tyson nodded, his brown hair bouncing along with him.

"Mean," the larger boy agreed. That actually made him crack a grin.

"The prettiest girl around here that's not majorly coo coo for cocoa-puffs is Melanie, and she's fourteen with a G-string." Percy admitted with a small shrug, biting back a laugh at the look on the poor guy's face. Olympia didn't have a clue.

He knew the feeling.

"She's actually kinda great if you ignore the hair extensions, I swear." The sudden glare Olympia shot him was so cold that he felt like he was about to turn into a Percysicle. He wondered what had gotten him so mad.

"You're joking?" Percy blinked. The guy didn't sound angry like he had thought, but grossed out. That was almost worst.

"No." He looked away, biting his lip. "Does it really matter?" If asked, he would deny it, but the man was freakin' scary.

"It's _disgusting_!"

"No, it's _none of your business._ Leave it alone," he fumed under his breath, suddenly defensive. Melanie was nice enough to him, and he wasn't about to dis her any further than he already had. Really, he had to learn how to bite his tongue. His mom would kill him if he hurt anyone's feelings... **(2)**

Olympia gave him a sudden, strange look, seemingly nostalgic. Almost sad. But as soon as Percy saw it, it was gone, replaced with his (from what he'd seen so far) usual haughty expression.

"Doesn't make it any less sick."

"No one cares about your opinion." Percy noticed the way Olympia's eyes were darting about. The secure looking doors made of Plexiglas, a window insuring that there was no way for you to hide. He understood the skepticism, but the people here weren't anything but thorough.

This was a step up from the other option, but that didn't mean they didn't have precautions.

"Plenty of people care about my opinion, brat."

He froze up. He couldn't help it. Poseidon didn't look like _Poseidon_ anymore, and was quickly replaced with a very different person. _"Don't call me that!"_ Before Olympia could so much as open his mouth to speak, the door to Mr. D's office was abruptly thrown open, and Percy stomped inside like the child he was.

Dang, he had to keep his temper in check. Hopefully Olympia didn't notice the way his palms dripped with "the icky juice" he remembered from so long ago.

**_-P-J-O-_**

Poseidon gave this place an eleven on the 1 - 10 creep-factor. At first, it had been just slightly odd, seeing how everything was considered a dangerous weapon, a new way to get yourself killed. It had been only a small thought in the back of his head, of course, but he'd noticed the way there was no glass in the room. Or pointy furniture. Everything was plush. He had just figured that it was because of the smaller kids staying there.

But, as he began to walk up to the owner's office, he had realized that _there were no young children_. No crying, no giggling, no nothing. It was twelve o'clock in the afternoon, and there wasn't even a peep of noise other than hushed whispers and the soothing, muted hum of the cars whizzing along the streets outside. The youngest person he'd seen so far had been Percy, and he was in no way childlike, from his speech to his mannerisms.

The doors had been the next big clue. They obviously were specially made for the use of hospitals, not a care-home. This _was_ a care-home, right? Poseidon wasn't so sure anymore.

What was going on?

His eyes flitted towards Percy automatically. The way he walked was hostile, the way he talked was stiff. Tyson was gripping his hand like a drowning man would a life-preserver. It wasn't right. No, not at all. Tyson was at least _sixteen_. He shouldn't need a boy three times smaller than him being his big bro and holding his hand just as tightly, if only a little more protectively. Percy wasn't a grown man. The brat looked ten at best!

So what was it that made him look so _old_?

Poseidon didn't have a minute to spare for story time, but _damn_, the curiosity was killing him! He had to know.

So he followed after the two boys with a grin on his face, and his chin held just as highly as the brat's had been before! After a while, the hall led to an office door at the far end. The paint was a chipped, hideous, carroty orange. The window was ever-so-slightly tinted yellow, like it was years old and needed a serious clean. Dust lined the creases. Percy opened the door for both him and Tyson–but mostly for Tyson. Poseidon stepped inside without a thought.

"Dionysus?" He tilted his head, flashing white teeth. "I hope I haven't kept you waiting, old friend." The older man, at least forty, shook his curl covered head, and Poseidon decided to ignore its purple color for later evaluation. The guy was a crazy drunk. Poseidon knew this from previous experience.

And if the tattoo he had to get removed proved anything…

"Poseidon." Taking a swig from his diet coke can, Dennis Welch–or as he liked to call him, Dionysus (the guy was a freakin' wino)–gestured for him to sit down. Percy stood silently by the man's desk, his hands fiddling with an empty, green prescription bottle and his expression perfectly poker-faced. His eyes were once again hidden by his mop of hair. Tyson let go of the Percy's hand, waving to Dionysus in a silent goodbye. He left to go do only God knows what; Poseidon didn't care. He had more important things to wonder about. He had come here on purely business, and he had to remember that as he declined the glass of wine the man offered him.

Though, really, he thought longingly, one glass wouldn't hurt.

* * *

**(1) **Also, I do realize that Zeus is not older than Poseidon, but for the sake of this story, he is. So please, don't complain.

**(2) **But, Loyalty, Sally is dead! Yeah. She is. Chill.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Rated:** T, for pretty obvious reasons. _

_**Trigger Warnings (TW):** Mentions of medication, disturbing thoughts, Percy being just too adorable for words, blood (but not necessarily gore), panic attacks, and the usual innuendos that come with Poseidon being a total asshat with a thing for vagina. _

_**Pairings: **Canon Olympian pairings, ones that go along with the original mythology—such as Hera/Zeus. There'll be some implied stuff, of course, like past Poseidon/Sally, past Athena/Poseidon, but it's mainly focused on Poseidon and Percy's father-son relationship. We'll see where it goes from there._

_**Spoilers:** None, as far as I know._

___**Disclaimer:** Don't own jack, man. But Riordan definitely owns my soul._

* * *

Chapter 2

"Drop the bottle, Johnson." Poseidon watched in bemusement as Percy dropped the empty bottle on the desk with a loud rattle, his face still holding its uninterested, void expression. On the bottle, the prescription read **_Ritalin_** in bold black lettering, followed by fancy words that meant nothing to him.** (1)** A piece of tape on the lid had the boy's name wrote in the clumsy cursive lettering of Welch himself. _Perseus Jackson_. Dionysus must have forgotten his last name. Figures.

It had taken him months to remember how to properly pronounce Poseidon's name and even longer for him to learn his own nickname.

_But Perseus? Really? Son of Zeus? _

Dionysus leaned up from his worn leather chair; his nose crinkled in distaste. "Kronos wanted you to come here." It wasn't a question. Didn't have to be one, really. The middle-aged man knew better than to assume anything less of his _boss_. He didn't go to places like these without a reason. Poseidon nodded absentmindedly, looking around for something worth remembering—anything that would show how the conversation might end. There wasn't. "I could call Zeus up at any minute, you know." He could.

"You won't," Poseidon said, sitting down in the plastic chair _(one obviously made for a child, he noted)_ across from Dionysus's desk with all the gracefulness of a ballerina with one leg. "You hate his guts." Who doesn't? The guy was an asshole. An asshole with a god-complex, to boot.

"He doesn't seem to think so." Dionysus heaved a sigh, yanking at one of his purplish curls in frustration. "I've been on probation ever since the Hades' Incident," he grumbled. "Something about him getting a new head caretaker to replace me." **(2)**

Poseidon grimaced in sympathy. Yeah, Zeus was everything _but_ merciful when it came to "his people" socializing with the family. Actually, he was down-right cruel. He only wanted the good publicity for himself, and he was willing to fight for it. Even if it meant not even he got any in the end. Hades, their eldest brother, knew that just as well as Poseidon did. Neither of them cared.

Unfortunately, that usually meant that the people they hung out with got the whole blame resting on their sad-sap shoulders. What a shame.

"Zeus has a big head; he thinks everyone kisses the ground he walks on." He shrugged. Blame darling Mother Rhea on that mistake.

Dionysus rolled his watery blue eyes, all the while grabbing Percy's wrist that had reached out to grab some of the candy from the intricately created bowl sitting in between the both of them. The boy recoiled, eyes flashing in a sort of wild urgency that he had only ever seen on a rapid dog begging for scraps. Percy began to tug away. Poseidon tried not to stare, though it was hard not to. Dionysus let Percy go, handing him a single piece of peppermint with a gruff pat on the shoulder following close behind. The older man turned against to Poseidon.

He gawked back at his calm visage, bewildered.

"Let's just get this over with. What does Kronos want?" _What doesn't he want?_

But instead, Poseidon said a blank "Just publicity", attempting to straighten the emotionless mask he had continuously been taught to don since early childhood. "You're having some huge charity bullshit soon. We'll give you all the money you need for funding, just tell the press about how saintly we are." Percy looked disgusted by the idea, but Dionysus remained unperturbed.

"Fine with me. But if my ass gets put on the fire because of you, the publicity won't be nice." Dionysus emptied his soda can with one last tip. Poseidon just nodded.

"Fair enough." For a second, he thought about what to do. "Brief me on what we're giving up our money on. Dad didn't tell me jack." He never does. Not on anything important, anyway.

Shooing Percy off with a hand, the elder nodded. The green-eyed man-child was out the door before he could blink.

"This is a halfway house, for lack of better term." Dionysus paused, thoughtful. "Well, it's made to be like one. Similar, close to, staged to mimic, whatever."

"Halfway house? Should I know what that is?"

"I doubt you even know what a 711 is; I'm not surprised."

"It's a gas station," Poseidon defended.

"Whatever. Anyway, our sort-of halfway house is a more popular design in England than in America. We help kids...ease back into society." _Oh-kay_, that didn't sound weird at all, Poseidon grumbled to himself scathingly—glad no one could hear him in his head.

"They're good kids," Dionysus said suddenly. "Don't let the brats hear me say that, but they are. Messed up in the head, but good."

Poseidon's eyebrows rose to his hairline. "Messed up in the head?"

Dionysus gave him a long look, one that left Poseidon fidgeting. "You were right. Your father told you zilch." The older man sighed, propped up his head on his arms, and squared his shoulders to speak. He had this dry look of _This-Is-Fantastic_. Poseidon tried not to have any sort of look at all. "This is a place for brats with mental disorders and substance abuse issues. Mostly the former. It's a way for Zeus to get a good buck–a nicer way to get little shits with way too much baggage out of the adoption process." At Poseidon's widening eyes, Dionysus carried on. "You've been to plenty of charities and care-homes. It's no big deal." He didn't really care what the younger believed, that much was obvious, but by his rapidly paling complexion it probably looked like the young adult was about to faint.

He sputtered, completely thrown. What the hell was his dad thinking? No, he knew the answer to that. Kronos wanted to make an image. An image that portrayed them as saints.

But they weren't. "So, that Tyson kid...?"

"Severe autism. He doesn't live here; his mother just wanted him to get to know some of the kids. Keep them company, help cheer them up. The works. He's a very special case, not like a lot of the others."

"Meaning?"

"He's staying here because he _wants_ to. A lot of the kids stay here because someone _ordered them to_." Poseidon mused about that for a minute, his fingers drumming nervously against the desk.

That explained a lot. Explained the while-not-suffocating but _careful_ precautions and the worried looks and the moody, red-eyed kids at every corner. "And, uh, Jackson?" Despite everything, the kid didn't seem half bad. A little too mature for his age, but that wasn't necessarily a con. Kinda mouthy too, but he didn't have any room to complain.

Dionysus' eyes darkened. "It's not my place to _gossip_ about the people here. This isn't the girls' bathroom."

"Dionysus," Poseidon would deny it if asked, but he let himself grovel, just a bit.

_"Mr. Olympia."_

_"Dionysus."_

Annoyed with the whole thing, Dionysus began to grumble under his breath. Poseidon grinned. "Found his mother's dead body when he was small. Four, I think he was. Screwed him over, obviously. He'd been travelling foster home to foster home for some time, but they never kept him long. Minus the one he had previously been staying at, anyway. They're insistent on getting him back after his time limit is up." His grin slid off his face, fell to the floor, and did not attempt to crawl back up to its original place.

Poseidon's brow furrowed. "Why?"

"Panic attacks. Most people don't like sniveling stage brats." Dionysus shot him a pointed look at that.

He ignored him. "Who's the mother? Anyone you knew?" The kid was familiar. _Too_ familiar, actually. Maybe he had met his mother? Or even father, who knew? Kronos had caused him to meet a lot of people, and even without that, Poseidon had went through a partying phase. A partying phase that had caused him to meet a lot of people, men and women alike.

Besides, he sort of looked like _her_.

"Tch, no. Name was something with an S..." He shrugged. "Selena, maybe."

Oh, no way. "Sally?" Dionysus arched a black brow at him.

"Yeah, I think that's it. You know her?" Poseidon smiled, feeling sick. He remembered Sally, remembered her cheery smile and the way she'd tuck back that piece of hair that was never out-of-place.

"_Knew_ her."

Dionysus grimaced a little, but didn't look sympathetic. He would not pretend to like Poseidon. "Boring topics aside, Mr. Johnson arrived here a couple of months ago, book-bag and court order in hand." The man shrugged. "He's all right. More of a observational case than some of the more concerning patients. Can be a bit of a brat, but who isn't around here?"

Poseidon's lips pursed. "You say the word brat too much," he said, but didn't really care.

"So does your father."

"Fair enough." He paused. "How old is Percy?"

Dionysus tapped a finger against his temple in contemplation. "Eight, I believe." The twenty-four year-old ogled him. Oh, no way. Sally was his age; she would have only been sixteen when Percy was born. Poseidon had spent a huge slice of his Sophomore year with her. They had dated for quite a while. (She had been his longest relationship, funnily enough.) He didn't remember her dating anyone after they broke up, but he had left soon after. Maybe...

_Oh, don't be stupid. He looks just like you._ Poseidon paid his thoughts no mind. But...

_Look at the kid's fucking eyes, Poseidon. You're not blind! _

He knew those eyes, saw them in the mirror every day—he and the mirror were best friends; they were very well acquainted. The same eerie green tinged with the slightest hint of pale blue, "the color of the sea", as an old friend often joked. But it wasn't possible. There was no way, right? She would have told him, would have found a way to contact him, surely.

Poseidon's head jerked up to meet Dionysus's curious orbs with an audible snap. "I have an idea."

**_-P-J-O-_**

"This is a horrible idea," Percy said tersely, sitting uncomfortably in the backseat of Poseidon's fancy-shmancy car. Angrily, he picked at the thick seatbelt, feeling like he was suffocating. The belt squeezed unpleasantly at his ribs with every slight shift he made. This really _was_ a horrible idea.

He scowled at the man, making sure he could see from the mirror. He received a sneer in return.

"Deal with it," Poseidon snapped back. If it wasn't for the fact that he was driving the car, Percy would have hit him. He didn't want to "deal with it". He didn't want to be here at all. He shot a dirty look at the backpack lounging by his side. They weren't expecting him to spend the night with this guy, right? He would sooner leap out of a five-story window.

As he leaned back into the seat, he let his gaze—grumpy and a little more than cross—slide over to the window. His breath caught itself in his throat. Oh.

_Oh._

His eyes were dinner plates, he was sure. This was the _rich street _(he shouldn't be so surprised), with its new roads and cat fights every other week. The street with large, grand houses of columns and pretty designs and silk curtains that Percy wished he could use for his sheets. The yards varied, some full of gardens and apple trees, others with a tree house and a jungle gym. _Oh God, they can afford a jungle gym. These people are loaded!_

Only one house had a fountain in the yard, though. And that was the one they were pulling up to. The fountain was large, lying on immaculately cut grass, its pale shade of blue shining like the pearls from under the sea. It was made generously full of twirls and curls of marble, twining in and out of each other to make beautiful shapes that didn't have names but really should've. "Whoa," he said stupidly. Poseidon smirked.

Percy regretted opening his mouth. "I still don't know why you want me at your house." Poseidon rolled his eyes like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"You're going to tell the nice reporter about how nice and kind I am."

He about face-faulted at that one. "You're one of _those_ guys," he accused. Just as he had guesses. A total _asshole_.

"Excuse me?"

"All you care about is money and face." One of the man's finely sculpted eyebrows ticked up in amusement. From what Percy could tell, he thought it was comical that a stupid eight year-old like him could say something like that to a guy like, well, Poseidon. He didn't think it was so funny.

"That's what being in business is about, kid." _Then business is stupid_, he wanted to say.

"Sounds fun," Percy deadpanned instead. Poseidon sighed, one hand reaching up to run a hand through his hair. He was trying not to look irritated, Percy noticed. Why did he bother? They both knew that Poseidon didn't like this any more than Percy. So why?

"Look," he began again, staring at the man in the front seat with no small amount of distaste. "I don't like you, you don't like me. Can't you just take me back and grab a better kid?" He pursed his lips, upset and wishing to go _home_. Home where the Stolls and Luke were and Chiron (his foster parent) took him out shopping for groceries just so he could purchase blue food dye without the other kids noticing.

And if not there, back to the facility. At least the facility would eventually let him go home. If he stayed he would probably die here, and then he definitely would never get to go home. "Why not one of those poster kids with a big smile and photogenic face?" He wasn't ready to die yet.

"I didn't think you'd be able to use the word photogenic in a sentence." Percy shot him a dirty look for that. "And to answer your question, I can't."

"Can't?"_ Oh God, he was going to throw a temper tantrum... if only for the sheer reason of making Poseidon crash his car... _

It was a stupid car.

Poseidon rolled his eyes, glancing up at the mirror even as he parked. He did not notice Percy's livid expression—or if he did, he just didn't care enough to comment on it. "Yeah, _can't_. I have to find something out first." What is this, _Scooby-Doo_?!

"Anything specific?"

The elder just smirked at him with those too-white teeth _(Who was his dentist, anyway? Percy'd like to smack them firmly upside the head. Someone could go blind!) _before opening his door to get out. "Don't worry your pretty head about it."

"Don't call me pretty. It's weird." He shuddered in disgust, reaching to open his own car door, though Poseidon beat him to it. Percy's lips curled up into a defensive snarl, shoulders hunching up as he shuffled out of the vehicle. It _was_ a nice looking car. All sleek and shiny and indestructible.

Percy hated it. Really, he hated a lot of things. And people, he didn't like people either. People were _stupid_.

(_Now, now, Percy, dear_, a voice in his head reprimanded, sounding bizarrely like his pre-K teacher. It was freaky. _I know your mommy taught you not to use the word hate._)

Mommy wasn't here.

"—and make sure you don't," Poseidon paused, irritated. "You paying any attention?" He jumped, head snapping up to look at the man with staggering speed.

"Yes," Percy fibbed, far too quickly for his taste. The old guy clearly didn't believe him. The disarming smile shot his way didn't waver his resolve.

"Uh-huh, sure. Let's just get inside, it looks like it's about to rain." Blinking, Percy looked up at the sky. Huh, it really did. He hadn't noticed.

The sky was rapidly darkening from a silvery blue to a light grey, the clouds swirling angrily into one huge mass. It looked like it would swallow him whole. He could almost imagine the thunder they'd hear later tonight. Michael—one of his friends at the facility—had mentioned there being a chance of a storm two days before. Dang. He really hoped it wouldn't thunder.

_("It's okay, Percy, God's playing bowling with Satan! I bet he just made a strike!" And she'd smile real pretty down at her stupid, useless son, like he was the best thing in the world.)_

He'd never liked storms, he brooded, tugging his hoodie closer to his face to ward off the sudden chill. They were loud and had always hurt his fragile mother's ears. Things were fuzzy now when it came to her, but he remembered that. Sometimes she would curl up with him on his bed with his ocean comforter thrown over both their heads, and just bury her face into the pillows, holding him close while he whimpered and sobbed that "Mommy, I'm scared". He could see that in the back of his head, fluttering in and out of memory, but he never forgot.

He knew he had been loud and obnoxious, but she had never cared. She was just too kind, too perfect to ever raise her voice about anything to anyone, even when she probably should have. Definitely should have. He wished she would have.

By the time he started to resurface from memory lane, head spinning, they were inside.

**_-P-J-O-_**

The first thing the kid noticed was the fish tank, and from the childish look of excitement on his face, Poseidon could tell he had found one of the few things that made the boy truly happy. At least that was something they shared; it would make things for manageable.

And even if he thought aquatic life was the dumbest thing since Snuggies for dogs, the tank was just _cool_. Never let it be said that Poseidon Olympia didn't cook in style.

It was in the kitchen, a good four feet tall and resting fully against the back wall. It then proceeded to turn into a countertop, ending just where the refrigerator sat. Colorful wildlife swam around, maneuvering through bright coral and eccentric decorations of all shapes and sizes. A half-full coffee mug sat on a napkin, but the kid didn't seem to notice, or maybe didn't even care.

Percy was in awe. He was babbling about all the kinds of fish under his breath, craning his head to catch a look at everything last detail. _Oohs_ and even an astounded (and maybe impressed) _no__ way_ filled his ears. He was literally bouncing up and down, his hair moving with him. There was a good chance he would push his nose up against the glass to get a better look. Mouth grinning and green eyes glittering, the boy turned to speak to him. Dimples flashed. Poseidon _almost_ smiled.

Then the boy's eager appearance dropped, becoming one of embarrassment. Pink stained his face before he was able to put on a more neutral face, creeping stealthily across his cheeks to the tips of his slightly too-large ears. The bouncing stopped as rapidly as it came; he was soon entirely out of his reverie. "Sorry," he mumbled. He glanced down at his tennis shoes, a small frown tugging at the corner of his mouth. Percy obviously didn't like the idea of Poseidon knowing _anything_ about him.

Poseidon laughed. "Don't be. It _is_ pretty great." The boy nodded begrudgingly.

"Yeah."

He rested a hand on Percy's shoulder. The child's whole body shrank back, and he let his hand drop uselessly back to his side.

Poseidon didn't try again. "Let's show you around."

"…Okay."

* * *

**(1) **Ritalin, in case you don't know, is a medication used for ADHD. It's not going to be mentioned much, if it all. At the moment, Percy's ran out (if you couldn't tell).

**(2)** This care-home is ran by a profit organization, Zeus', for the sole purpose of money. It's not to help the community. That's why Zeus can take Dionysus' job. Kronos is trying to use Zeus' "project" against him, by getting some publicity from them-donating money and getting great reviews in response. And it's not like Zeus can refuse. It's two organizations against one another at this point. All of this is probably horribly inaccurate but forget it. It's a mere plot device.

Also, please remember that I don't have a beta. If there are any mistakes kindly tell me about them and I will do my best to fix them.


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